How can a day with so much potential for
being wonderful turn so horrible so quickly? I returned from the morning chores
to find my sweet Dylan hanging by his leash from a tree limb, dead. He’s never
been a climber, so I can’t imagine how it happened. I still can’t believe he’s
gone. Workampers Steve and Fred helped me bury him just outside, where he loved
to roll in the dust. I’ve already been through the thousands of “If only”’s (If
only I had just let him wander instead of keeping him on the leash, if only I
had put him in the RV this morning, if only I hadn’t lingered over coffee at the café,
if only his leash had been a foot shorter so he couldn’t reach the tree, etc.
etc.). It doesn’t help—he’s gone.
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